The Shack (22 page)

Suddenly, without warning, water roared down from above, directly in front of him, and obliterated all the sights and sounds of his children. Instinctively, he jumped back. He now realized that the walls of the cave had dissolved around him, and he was standing in a grotto on the backside of the waterfall.

Mack felt the woman’s hands on his shoulders.

“Is it over?” he asked.

“For now,” she replied tenderly. “Mackenzie, judgment is not about destruction, but about setting things right.”

Mack smiled. “I don’t feel stuck anymore.”

She steered him gently toward the side of the waterfall until he could once again see Jesus on the shore, still skipping stones. “I think someone is waiting for you.”

Her hands softly squeezed and then left his shoulders and Mack knew without looking that she was gone. After carefully climbing over slippery boulders and across wet rocks, he found a way around the edge of the falls, then through the refreshing mist of tumbling water, and back into daylight.

Exhausted but deeply fulfilled, Mack paused and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to etch the details of Missy’s presence indelibly into his mind, hoping that in the days to come he would be able to bring back every moment with her, every nuance and movement.

And suddenly he missed Nan so very, very much.

12

I
N THE
B
ELLY OF THE
B
EASTS

Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from a religious conviction.

—Blaise Pascal

Once abolish the God and the government becomes the God.

—G. K. Chesterton

A
s Mack made his way down the trail toward the lake, he suddenly realized that something was missing. His constant companion,
The Great Sadness,
was gone. It was as if it had been washed away in the mists of the waterfall as he emerged from behind its curtain. Its absence felt odd, perhaps even uncomfortable. For the past years it had defined for him what was normal, but now unexpectedly it had vanished. “Normal is a myth,” he thought to himself.

The Great Sadness
would not be part of his identity any longer. He knew now that Missy wouldn’t care if he refused to put it on. In fact, she wouldn’t want him to huddle in that shroud and would likely grieve for him if he did. He wondered who he would be now that he was letting all that go— to walk into each day without the guilt and despair that had sucked the colors of life out of every thing.

As he entered the clearing, he saw Jesus still waiting, still skipping stones.

“Hey, I think my best was thirteen skips,” he said as he laughed and walked to meet Mack. “But Tyler beat me by three and Josh threw one that skipped so fast we all lost count.” As they hugged, Jesus added, “You have special kids, Mack. You and Nan have loved them very well. Kate is struggling, as you know, but we’re not done there.”

The very ease and intimacy with which Jesus talked about his children touched him deeply. “Then they’re gone?”

Jesus pulled back and nodded. “Yes, back to their dreams, except Missy, of course.”

“Is she . . . ?” Mack began.

“She was overjoyed to have been this close to you, and she’s thrilled knowing you are better.”

Mack struggled to maintain his composure. Jesus understood and changed the subject.

“So, how was your time with Sophia?”

“Sophia? Ahh, so that’s who she is!” exclaimed Mack. Then a perplexed look came across his face. “But doesn’t that make four of you? Is she God too?”

Jesus laughed. “No Mack. There are only three of us. Sophia is a personification of Papa’s wisdom.”

“Oh, like in Proverbs, where wisdom is pictured as a woman calling out in the streets, trying to find anyone who’ll listen to her?”

“That’s her.”

“But,” Mack paused as he bent to untie the laces of his shoes, “she seemed so real.”

“Oh, she’s quite real,” responded Jesus. He then looked around as if to see if anyone was watching and whispered, “She’s part of the mystery surrounding of Sarayu.”

“I love Sarayu,” Mack exclaimed as he stood, somewhat surprised at his own transparency.

“Me too!” Jesus stated with emphasis. They walked back to the shore and silently stood looking across at the shack.

“It was terrible and it was wonderful, my time with Sophia.” Mack finally answered the question Jesus had asked earlier. He suddenly realized that the sun was still high in the sky. “Exactly how long have I been gone?”

“It’s been less than fifteen minutes, so not long,” Jesus replied. At Mack’s look of bewilderment, he added, “Time with Sophia is not like normal time.”

“Huh,” grunted Mack. “I doubt if anything with her is normal.”

“Actually,” Jesus started to speak but paused to throw one last skipping stone, “with her, everything is normal and elegantly simple. Because you are so lost and independent you bring to her many complications, and as a result you find even her simplicity profound.”

“So, I’m complex and she’s simple. Whew! My world is upside down.” Mack had already sat down on a log and was taking off his shoes and socks for the walk back. “Can you tell me this? Here it is the middle of the day, and my children were here in their dreams? How does that work? Is any of this real? Or am I just dreaming, too?”

Again Jesus laughed. “As far as how all this works? Don’t ask, Mack. It’s a little heady—something to do with time dimensional coupling. More of Sarayu’s stuff. Time, as you know it, presents no boundaries to the One who created it. You can ask her, if you like.”

“Nah, I think I’ll wait on that one. I was just curious,” he chuckled.

“But as for, ‘Is any of this real?’ Far more real than you can imagine.” Jesus paused for a moment to get Mack’s full attention. “A better question might be, ‘What is real?’“

“I’m beginning to think that I have no idea,” Mack offered.

“Would all this be any less ‘real’ if it were inside a dream?”

“I think I’d be disappointed.”

“Why? Mack, there is far more going on here than you have the ability to perceive. Let me assure you, all of this is very much real, far more real than life as you’ve known it.”

Mack hesitated, but then decided to take the risk and ask.

“There is one thing still bothering me, about Missy.”

Jesus walked over and sat next to him on the log. Mack leaned over and put his elbows on his knees, staring past his hands and down at the pebbles near his feet. Finally, he said, “I keep thinking about her, alone in that truck, so terrified . . .”

Jesus reached over and put his hand on Mack’s shoulder and squeezed. Gently, he spoke, “Mack, she was never alone. I never left her; we never left her not for one instant. I could no more abandon her, or you, than I could abandon myself.”

“Did she know you were there?”

“Yes Mack, she did. Not at first—the fear was overwhelming and she was in shock. It took hours to get up here from the campsite. But as Sarayu wrapped herself around her, Missy settled down. The long ride actually gave us a chance to talk.”

Mack was trying to take all of this in. He could no longer speak.

“She may have been only six years old, but Missy and I are friends. We talk. She had no idea what was going to happen. She was actually more worried about you and the other kids, knowing that you couldn’t find her. She prayed for you, for your peace.”

Mack wept, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. This time, he didn’t mind. Jesus gently pulled him into his arms and held him.

“Mack, I don’t think you want to know all the details. I’m sure they won’t help you. But I can tell you there was not a moment that we were not with her. She knew my peace, and you would have been proud of her. She was so brave!”

The tears flowed freely now, but even Mack noticed this time it was different. He was no longer alone. Without embarrassment he wept onto the shoulder of this man he had grown to love. With each sob he felt the tension drain away, replaced by a deep sense of relief. Finally, he took a deep breath and blew it out as he lifted his head.

Then, without another word, he stood up, slung his shoes over one shoulder, and simply walked into the water. Although he was a little surprised when his first step found the lake bottom up to his ankles, he didn’t care. He stopped, rolled up his pant legs above the knees, just to be sure, and took another step into the shocking cold water. This one took him up to midcalf, and the next up to just below his knees, his feet still on the lake bottom. He looked back to see Jesus standing on the shore with arms folded across his chest, watching him.

Mack turned and looked toward the opposite shore. He wasn’t sure why it wasn’t working this time, but he was determined to press on. Jesus was there, so he had nothing to worry about. The prospect of a long and cold swim was not too thrilling, but Mack was sure he could make it across if he had to.

Thankfully, when he took his next step, instead of going deeper he rose up a little, and with each succeeding stride he came up even more until he was on top of the water once again. Jesus joined him and they both continued walking toward the shack.

“This always works better when we do it together, don’t you think?” Jesus asked, smiling.

“Still more to learn, I guess.” Mack returned his smile. It didn’t matter to him, he realized, whether he had to swim the distance or walk on water, as wonderful as the latter was. What mattered was that Jesus was with him. Perhaps he was beginning to trust him after all, even if it were only baby steps.

“Thank you for being with me, for talking to me about Missy. I haven’t really talked about that with anyone. It just felt so huge and terrifying. It doesn’t seem to hold the same power now.”

“The darkness hides the true size of fears and lies and regrets,” Jesus explained. “The truth is they are more shadow than reality, so they seem bigger in the dark. When the light shines into the places they live inside you, you start to see them for what they are.”

“But why do we keep all that crap inside?” Mack asked.

“Because we believe it’s safer there. And, sometimes, when you’re a kid trying to survive, it really is safer there. Then you grow up on the outside, but on the inside you’re still that kid in the dark cave surrounded by monsters, and out of habit you keep adding to your collection. We all collect things we value, you know?”

This made Mack smile. He knew Jesus was referring to something Sarayu had said about collecting tears. “So, how does that change, you know, for somebody who’s lost in the dark like me?”

“Most often, pretty slowly,” Jesus answered. “Remember, you can’t do it alone. Some folks try with all kinds of coping mechanisms and mental games. But the monsters are still there, just waiting for the chance to come out.”

“So what do I do now?”

“What you’re already doing, Mack, learning to live loved. It’s not an easy concept for humans. You have a hard time sharing anything.” He chuckled and continued. “So, yes, what we desire is for you to ‘re-turn’ to us, and then we come and make our home inside you, and then we share. The friendship is real, not merely imagined. We’re meant to experience this life, your life, together, in a dialogue, sharing the journey. You get to share in our wisdom and learn to love with our love, and we get . . . to hear you grumble and gripe and complain, and . . .”

Mack laughed out loud and pushed Jesus sideways.

“Stop!” Jesus yelled and froze where he stood. At first Mack thought he might have offended him, but Jesus was looking intently into the water. “Did you see him? Look, here he comes again.”

“What?” Mack stepped closer and shielded his eyes to try and see what it was that Jesus was looking at.

“Look! Look!” shouted Jesus in a hushed sort of way. “He’s a beauty! Must be almost two feet long!” And then Mack saw him, a huge lake trout gliding by only a foot or two beneath the surface, seemingly oblivious to the commotion he was causing above him.

“I’ve been trying to catch him for weeks, and here he comes just to bait me,” he laughed. Mack watched, amazed, as Jesus started to dodge this way and that, trying to keep up with the fish, and finally gave up. He looked at Mack, excited as a little kid. “Isn’t he great? I’ll probably never catch him.”

Mack was bewildered by the whole scene. “Jesus, why don’t you just command him to . . . I don’t know, jump in your boat or bite your hook. Aren’t you the Lord of Creation?”

“Sure,” said Jesus, leaning down and running his hand over the water. “But what would be the fun in that, eh?” He looked up and grinned.

Mack didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He realized how much he had come to love this man, this man who was also God.

Jesus stood back up and together they continued their meandering toward the dock. Mack ventured another question. “Can I ask, why didn’t you tell me about Missy earlier, like last night, or a year ago, or . . . ?”

“Don’t think we didn’t try. Have you noticed that in your pain you assume the worst of me? I’ve been talking to you for a long time, but today was the first time you could hear it, and all those other times weren’t a waste, either. Like little cracks in the wall, one at a time, but woven together they prepared you for today. You have to take the time to prepare the soil if you want it to embrace the seed.”

“I’m not sure why we resist it, resist
you
so much,” Mack mused. “It seems kind of stupid now.”

“It’s all part of the timing of grace, Mack,” Jesus continued. “If the universe contained only one human being, timing would be rather simple. But add just one more, and, well, you know the story. Each choice ripples out through time and relationships, bouncing off of other choices. And out of what seems to be a huge mess, Papa weaves a magnificent tapestry.

Only Papa can work all this out, and she does it with grace.”

“So I guess all I can do is follow her,” Mack concluded.

“Yep, that’s the point. Now you’re beginning to understand what it means to be truly human.”

They reached the end of the dock and Jesus leaped up onto it, turning to help Mack. Together they sat down at its end and dangled their bare feet in the water, watching the mesmerizing effects of the wind on the surface of the lake. Mack was the first to break the silence.